Dragon Chronicles: A herd chase
by Inowpronounceyoumanandelf
Summary: The specie of dragons is deteriorating. Out of 200 kinds, their number dropped to five with at most 200 individuals per herd. What will happen if a commoner finds a lost baby peregrine dragon, the least in number of all kinds?


**I own the characters, but not the names. Please promise to read the AN after the story. That is really important.****  
><strong>**I am not very good at grammar so if you see something wrong, please do tell me through the review. :)**

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><p>It was autumn in Felimath when Caleb first heard of the Peregrine Herd. The streams gleaming in the sun dappled the earthen brickwork with red. But the wind was blowing ice-cold air from the forest, reminding the Felimathens that winter was approaching. Even the ambiance tasted like snow, only the wings of the carved angels and dragons high up on the pointed rooftop of Psyche's Temple felt any real warmth from the pale sun.<p>

The cott in which Caleb lived and worked as a blacksmith stood close to Psyche's Temple; so close in fact, that he could always hear the sound of the bells that indicates the daily routine of the people living there. At night, he sometimes dreams being in that palace, dining in a gallant room being pampered by many servants. He would lay back and order and around as if they were born only to serve him. He would enjoy every minute of it, for he knows that when he wakes up, there would be no food, no fancy utensils and no obedient servant to heed his commands. He knows that when he wakes up, he would be back to his own house, looking upon the elegant sacred place of Psyche's.

For the time being, however, he doesn't feel like thinking about the temple. He was given a month to make one hundred and fifty swords for Felimathen's newly recruited warriors. That's an increase of twenty five percent of his effort from his average. And based on what he has done- 37 swords in ten days- he's not doing really great.

"Hey, Caleb," a familiar voice called. He looked up from the sizzling iron to face the person.

"Hello, Eller." He replied, looking back to his work and continued to hammer the metal to form. Eller leaned on one of the pillar of his shack. He just continued to watch Caleb work.

"You're busy," Eller gestured towards the finished swords that he put on a wooden table. "For the militia?"

Caleb nodded. "And I've got twenty days left to finish one hundred and thirteen swords." He wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeves of his shirt. "Yosh. I've got loads to do that I consider not sleeping this night."

"'Tleast you've still got twenty days more." Eller murmured. Then suddenly, he looked at him as if he was about to something really important. Indeed, he was going to. "Hey, guess what?"

Caleb finished his second sword for the day. He sat down a wood brick facing Eller. "Tell me what."

"Dragons are going to pass Felimath tomorrow morning!" Eller said with his eyes widening with the anticipation of his news.

"Really? Says who?" He is not the kind of person that easily believes on what the other people say. He doesn't want to disappoint himself by believing something that is not going to happen.

"Some man yonder. 'Dunno his name. Bartholomew, perhaps? I don't remember. The temple of Psyche verified it. The eastern city of Stale messaged them that flying dragons passed their city. And they are going..." Eller paused thinking what direction the dragons were taking. He looked over the horizons and pointed, "Thereward. Towards the setting sun."

"West." Caleb murmured. He often find Eller's ignorance quite appalling.

"Yes, yes, west. West is where the sun sets?"

"Always. By the way, were they Eidelfian?" Caleb asked. From almost a hundred kinds of dragons ten years ago, only five kinds were left because of excessive slaughter of their kind. Eidelfian dragons, the fierce flying beast from the city of Eidelfiss are the most numerous of them all with a number more than 200 in their herd. A herd is a group of dragons similar of kind. A dragon that is not in his own herd is a lost one.

"No." Eller shook his head hardly. "No."

"Then what is it?"

"Guess."

"What is it, Eller?"

"Guess. There are only five kinds left. It's easy."

"I have no time kidding around with you." _Lord, Eller was really loving this, he'd string me out forever_, Caleb thought.

Because of the scarcity of the other kinds, he knew nothing about the other herds except the Eidelfian. He doesn't even know the names of the other herds.

"It's the Peregrine Herd!" Eller shouted, "Those spiny gentle beasts from the south. They are the least in number with thirty dragons in the herd. People said that that herd is the smartest of all dragons, even with the extinct ones counted. They could also communicate with people." Eller stroked his chin, "How do you suppose could they do that? Telepathy? Oh, I would get myself one of those, Caleb! I would get myself one of that Peregrine Dragons!"

Caleb nodded thinking how exciting it is to catch a dragon for himself. And then I would save money by using his breath in molding my irons, he thought. He dusted the finished swords with loose sand. But Eller kicked the ground causing the dust to go into his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and cursed.

"Hey, watch it, Eller!" he shouted.

"You're not paying attention. Are you not at all interested?" Eller asked.

"Of course, I am. I'm thinking about something―"

He was in his midsentence when he heard loud some flapping of wings. Large, crackling flaps that sent shivers onto his spines. Those were not made by ordinary birds of prey, both Caleb and Eller knew. They looked at each other waiting for the other to confirm what they thought it is. The roof of Caleb's shack rattled along with his wobbly knees. Dust was scattered roughly in the air as though some unexpected tornado just came. He needed not to face the East to see what creature made those large flaps. He knew from that instant that the most anticipated visitor of Felimath finally arrived. The Peregrine Herd. Caleb looked at Eller with a knotted forehead.

"You said they'll pass tomorrow."

"Yes, I thought..." Eller avoided his sight, "But Caleb, does it really matter? What important is they're here now! Oh boy, I'll own one of you, beasts!" He ran out of the shack into the Plaza where the villagers watch the herd fly over the town with deep fascinations. All the people Eller knew were there. Even the priestesses of Psyche's temple came out rushing to see a once in a lifetime experience.

"Boy," the word came out like a sigh. Shaking his head, Caleb followed his friend to the Plaza. But he was rooted on the spot when he heard shrieks and shouts coming from the people. And from the dragons. The shrieks sounded desperate, like the pant you make when someone _or something_ you don't know is running after you. Or when there someone with a spear is behind you and you run even if you haven't done anything wrong to that person. He put his arms to cover his head because the sound of dragons made his roof rattle once again. It lasted only for fifteen seconds, but Caleb knew that it is now the most frightening fifteen seconds of his entire life.

The surroundings calmed down and the terrifying cries of dragons subsided. From a distance, Caleb could still hear the flaps of wings. For a moment, the plaza was quiet. After some time someone started a whisper, then came uncontrollable chatter from the crowd. Everyone was talking; some laughs, others cry due to overwhelming emotions. Everyone that is, except for Caleb and Eller. They stood there, amused and appalled.

"I missed the chance of getting a dragon." Eller muttered. "I was distracted. They were … beautiful."

"Absolutely." Caleb answered absently, still bewildered by the sight of the flying creatures. Then he snapped out of his own world, into the reality. "But, I'm actually wondering about how the temple miscalculated the arrival. It's just strange. The temple never commits a mistake."

"They just did, pea-brain. Not everybody's as perfect as _you._" Eller answered sarcastically. _He's acting like that because he was the one who told me the wrong news._ Caleb realized. _He never admits his mistakes._

"They might have encountered something that increased their speed. Or maybe, they took a shortcut…"

"You're impossible, Caleb, thinking of these things not worth thinking about."

Caleb ignored Eller and made slow steps back to his house, which was located only at the back of the plaza's bakery. The plaza crowd was dispersing now, little by little, but dispersing nonetheless.

"Or maybe…"

"I hate when you're talking to yourself," grumbled Eller.

Caleb made a sharp turn and looked at Eller with wide eyes. "There is something, or _someone_, for all we know, chasing them!"

"Yeah, right. You know, I don't like the flow of this conversation. It's either you'll come up with something really stupid and drag me to your crazy ideas or you'll be babbling about that the whole hour. I prefer the babbling though, knowing you, crazy is too mild an adjective to describe what you have in mind."

"But Eller, we have to help them! The peregrine herd is the least in number of all the dragons left. We've done nothing to protect those who are now extinct! And, say, I definitely will feel guilty if one of those beasts die because of our ignorance!"

"Caleb! Are you out of your mind? They're gone. And don't tell me you're following them, because you are not going to. You yourself said that the remaining days won't be enough to finish your project for the militia."

Realization came over Caleb. Eller was right; even if he wants to help the herd, he must do his obligations first.  
>Caleb nodded. "Pity. I wish I could help them some other way. If they die, my conscience will bear the burden for not saving them."<p>

"Aw, come on! You've got plenty of time to save the world. But you must first save your shack. You must have left your swords in the furnace. What a careless blacksmith."

Caleb knotted his forehead. "I've put it out. You even saw me dusting the last sword, didn't you?"

Eller thought for a moment but instead of answering he asked, "Then what is that sizzling sound?"

Silence spread between the two friends. Both were waiting for the sound. Then it came. It was similar to the sound of a hot frying pan soaked on cold water. They stared. What could it be? Is it possible that there is someone playing in the shack? A child, perhaps? Children in Felimath are often out of control. They barge in anybody's business without permission trying to cause the greatest chaos they could. One in his work-area won't be impossible.  
><em>Child or not, I need to find out what that sound is.<em> Caleb ran to his shack with Eller tailing him. They reached it ten seconds later, but there was no man, no child playing blacksmith. Still, they can hear the sizzle. Eller listened intently trying to find out where it was coming from. There is no need. Caleb already found it. On the sand, near the tall trees, lay _something_. He doesn't know what this _thing_ is. It was pure metallic blue. Eller found it, too. He was squatting next to it, examining the _thing _without touching.

"What do you think is this?" Eller asked.

Caleb drew near, "I have not the slightest idea."

"It's a thing of beauty." Eller tried to touch it, "And it sure is hot."

Caleb fidgeted. He remembered something. "Hey, El. I don't know what that thing really is but I have something in mind. It might help."

"You always have something in mind. Often they're crazy." Eller murmured, "What is it?"

"You know, the dragons came over the village, we were in the plaza the whole time. When we left, that _thing_ is not there. The dragons, if you haven't noticed, passed over my shack. Maybe, just maybe, that _thing_ is something from the dragons."

"So you're pointing, that the dragons gave you a gift?" Eller mocked.

"Not necessarily," Eller arched an eyebrow, "I mean, no. They might have dropped that or something."

"Or something."

Their conversation was cut by more sizzles, louder this time, and a crack. A crack? Caleb looked at the thing. Cracks on the surface.

_Oh why am I not surprised?_ He thought.

Opposed to what he said to Eller, he does have an idea of what this thing might be. But suggesting it to his friend, who recently has befriended logic and sarcasm, would earn him another "you're crazy" comment. He thinks, and wishes, that this is a dragon egg. Now another proof to be added to his theory, the cracks. _Seriously, why didn't Eller realize what this oval is? It's quite obvious._ Meanwhile, in Eller's mind, _Is this what I think it is? An egg? A real dragon's egg? I wish it's not. Because if it is, Caleb would surely leave to bring it back to its parents, leaving me with all his works. It would really be nice if I'd be allowed to come, too. But the militia won't be pleased to know that no one is doing their swords. I need to convince Caleb that it's not an egg, and then when he leaves, I'll bring it to my house and sell to the city. If he finds out, I wish he'd understand. Yet, I'm not really sure that there's a chance of him finding it out. This secret will be thought only in my mind._

More cracks followed.

_Go on, _Caleb thought.

_Oh, no._ Eller thought.

The egg, for of course it _is_ an egg, broke. It gave birth to a skinny little devil who coughs sparks. The baby dragon is about half a foot tall, brown and wrinkly. It has wide jet-black eyes and pointed snout. Its tail swished and flicked as it sneezed. The sparks are getting bigger and bigger with every sneeze.

At last, it stopped. Caleb and Eller watched in deep apprehension. The baby dragon stared. Then it blinked.

_Great. _Caleb thought. _I've got myself a dragon._

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><p><strong>AN: I'm really confused. I wrote this only a week ago. I asked for my friends' opinion and was answered negatively. They said that it is written with very little descriptions and fast events. Re-reading it again, I do agree with them. Details are understated and a big event occurred in the first chapter, when the characters should be thoroughly introduced first. I also consulted my favorite teacher about it but she said, as opposed to what my friends commented earlier, that it is "fine." She added, "I like it. Keep writing then let me read it. I like the first one." Perhaps, she's just making me feel happy? What do you think? I am posting this to seek opinion from you. Fanfiction readers are the best critics, no kidding. Of course, that's because we read several stories a day, I think. If I get negative comments again, this story will be deleted and disregarded. I will continue it if you guys liked it.<strong>


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